Sail enough times, and the men of the sea are bound to witness strange things.
The old captain had seen a lot in his time. He fancied himself the kind who could stay calm even in the face of a storm.
But… confronted with the scene before him now, the eerie atmosphere that surged toward him left him at a complete loss.
“What the hell is that…”
Countless coffins floated across the sea’s surface, and perhaps sensing the presence of the living, they slowly drifted toward the ship.
Right now, the only thing the old captain wanted was to escape this nightmare as fast as possible.
He prayed for a gust of wind to fill the sails and carry them away, but…
The wind died.
The last rays of sunlight faded from the horizon. The wind stopped. The sea stilled.
The ship was trapped in the doldrums, unable to move, left to watch helplessly as the coffins crept silently closer.
The surface of the sea ceased to ripple, turning into a sheet of black obsidian. But the mirror reflected nothing—no ship, no sky, no crew.
“Don’t move. Don’t speak.” Wu Yi stared solemnly at the water. “Mourn in silence.”
The coffins drew closer at a slow, steady pace, drifting past the side of the passenger ship.
A chill swept across the deck.
As they neared, everyone aboard could make out the details of the coffins.
Eyes wide, not a soul dared to breathe.
These coffins were ancient in style, their ornate decorations bizarre and twisted— unlike anything known to any civilization.
“Mmrrgh — puh—”
Someone couldn’t hold it in.
He’d instinctively held his breath the moment he saw the coffins. B
y now, his lungs were about to burst, and he finally let out a loud gasp.
Normally, the sound of waves hitting the hull would’ve masked such a noise.
But now, even the seabirds dared not call. That single exhale rang out like a landslide, thunderous in the silence.
The entire deck froze in fear.
And whatever was in the water— had clearly heard it.
……
The floating coffins stopped.
The wooden boxes began bumping gently against the hull.
Thud— thud— thud—
If it were just one coffin, it might’ve been nothing.
But the sound grew—more chaotic, more frequent.
More coffins started ramming into the ship.
Thud thud thud—
At first, the ship merely swayed, but soon it was rocking violently.
Thud thud thud thud thud—!
The sea began to boil! The coffins bashed against the hull like mad.
Decayed wood cracked and split apart from the impact, splinters spilling into the water.
Click—
Something inside the coffins was trying to get out, pounding against the lids in a frenzy, nails scraping the wood with a piercing screech.
From the splintered gaps seeped a pitch-black liquid, thick and reeking of blood and rot.
“Help— help me!”
The violent shaking of the ship made it nearly impossible to stay upright, and there weren’t enough handholds on deck.
A few people managed to cling to the mast, while the rest clung to the ship’s railings— but even those were full. The remaining passengers were like chaff on a winnowing basket.
They stumbled and flailed, desperately trying not to be thrown overboard.
But in the end, someone failed.
It was the little lead singer— too small, too weak— who was flung from the railing in utter despair.
Her face pointed toward the sea, staring at the roiling mass of cheering coffins. Her mind went completely blank.
“Kefulu!”
“No need to remind me.”
Fortunately, just before her face hit the water, a strong “rope” hooked around her waist and yanked her back onto the deck.
But only she was lucky.
“Help—”
“Aaaahhh—”
The railings couldn’t withstand the crushing weight of so many clinging bodies. With a deafening crack, they gave way.
In an instant, dozens of crew members and passengers plunged into the sea. Not even Kefulu could save them.
Splash splash—
Some slammed into the black sea, others struck the coffins, cracking the wood even further.
The water was dark as ink; they couldn’t see what lurked beneath.
But the ocean had become a monster that feasted on the living.
It was as if countless hands reached up from the depths, grabbing their legs, their clothes, dragging them into the coffins.
“Sing the requiem. Now.” Wu Yi looked at the little lead singer. “Whether you want to or not— do it.”
“Uhh—”
Though she was scared out of her wits, the instincts of a cantor forced a note from her throat.
ChatGPT said: The soft notes of the requiem drifted onto the sea, transforming into a gentle, calming presence.
Amazingly, the frenzied coffins truly quieted under the influence of the song.
They grew still. The passengers in the water finally felt their bodies relax, and they surfaced, coughing violently.
The crew scrambled up the boarding ladder in a panic. The remaining non-swimming passengers were also rescued, dragged back onto the deck one by one.
The madness of the coffins was gone.
In its place came a haunting chorus of weeping—men and women, young and old.
They returned to their original course, gliding past the ship in an orderly procession, drifting toward the horizon.
From afar, a small boat approached, carrying an old man dressed in a traditional straw raincoat, looking like a shepherd.
He lifted his head, his face shrouded in black mist, yet Wu Yi could tell he was smiling at her.
Wu Yi gave a nod in return.
Time froze in that instant. Droplets of water betrayed gravity and hovered in the air. The crew and passengers were frozen mid-motion.
The world seemed to hold only Wu Yi and the old man, standing across from each other.
The old man opened his mouth, and from the depths of the abyssal sea came his hoarse voice.
“Only… you remain…”
“I’m not going. Tell her not to wait,” Wu Yi replied.
The old man slowly raised his oar.
“…I won’t force it…” sighed the deep sea.
He stirred the water with the oar, and a great whirlpool churned across the surface.
All the coffins were sucked into the whirlpool, vanishing into its depths, destination unknown.
Strangely enough, the passenger ship remained completely unaffected by the vortex, standing firm on the calm sea.
Even the old man’s small boat was eventually drawn in.
Time resumed its flow.
The dark clouds above the ship slowly dispersed.
Brilliant moonlight spilled across the deck and over everyone’s faces, followed by a refreshing evening breeze.
“Just now…”
All the coffins had vanished without a trace. It made people wonder whether it had all been a dream.
“Sail long enough, and you’re bound to see some strange things.” Wu Yi gave a faint smile, drawing smoke into her lungs. “This is nothing.”
Compared to the bizarre encounters she’d faced at sea before, this really was nothing.
Even now, Wu Yi didn’t dare claim she’d seen all the mysteries the Seven Seas had to offer.
“Brace yourselves,” Wu Yi stretched lazily, moonlight pooling along her collarbone, reluctant to leave. “We’ve only just left port. There’s a long way to go… Little Kefulu, come give your big sister a shoulder rub.”
“Sure thing.” Kefulu walked over with a smile. “But don’t regret it. By morning, you won’t have a single secret left…”
“Oh yeah? Come on, then, if you’ve got what it takes.”
Kefulu couldn’t tolerate such a blatant provocation.
Still, she didn’t feel like arguing right now.
“What was that just now? You seemed to recognize them,” Kefulu asked.
“There are things in this sea even the gods fear,” Wu Yi said, eyes on the water. “But the ones just now were allies, not enemies. The next might not be…”
“I don’t like riddles.”
“But I do,” Wu Yi walked past Kefulu, brushing a finger across her lips, leaving a faint sweetness behind. “If you’ve got what it takes, pry it out of me… heh~”
She tapped the ashes from her pipe and swayed her way into the cabin.
Kefulu clenched her fists.
“Xiao Qi, you’re sleeping on your own tonight.”